Long Mischief Poems
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Quirky tricks of my special child are amusing…
But vexing when they turn to be mischievous acts
Exposing follies in the guise of innocence;
Thus, I respond with love-filled correction-dealings.
My child’s mischief reminds me actually of mine
Which I try to hide to guard my reputation
Such is what human nature readily asserts
And I’m not exempted from succumbing to it.
Learning from my child’s naughtiness which does offend
I admit my own that may or can hurt and harm
Since nothing can escape from the omniscient God
Who compassionately forgives and freely transforms.
Thus, I ask pardon* for my mischief’s ill effects
While praying with faith to win against my defects.
*1Samuel 15:25 Now therefore, I pray thee, pardon my sin, and turn again with me, that I may worship the LORD.
Hybronnet: For this “poetic modification,” I made all first twelve lines to follow the blank verse form with twelve syllables each. Meanwhile the last two lines (lines 13 and 14) make a couplet, like that of a sonnet, with each line having twelve syllables.
September 8, 2018
7th place, "A Form of Mischief" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nina Parmenter; judged on 10/4/2018.
A hand that writes at night and eyes staring into shadowed lanes
Spewing words out like water but drying before the ripened grain
Gone like dying winds fade into a summer breeze
Cunning thoughts blow away, reminiscent of autumn leaves
How I hate the fleeing words that vanishes before the first line
So hard to awaken the lost thoughts, they were so clear at the time
Now, they’re gone before the brain can think and take an alluring grip
vanishing into the flyway of words, in search of speaking lips
I’d like to give honor to others who avoids the robbery of the thief
Defeating the snares of losing words and welcome the dreams of sleep
Writing pretty words upon the tablet when thoughts and rhyme appear
You can wink and laugh at the word thief, he has no mischief here
Part 1
Once upon a time,
And very long ago.
Lived a rabbit and a tortoise,
Or so the story goes.
And if you have the time
Take a seat, pull up a stool,
And I'll tell you of the day
Tortoise took the hare to school.
Pleading funny, said the bunny,
To the tortoise I have a dare.
Let's race to see who's fastest,
The tortoise or the hare.
Now Shelly (short for Sheldon)
Knew rabbit, knew him well.
Always up to mischief,
He got right under his shell.
Said Tortoise "I need a moment, to think upon this thought,"
I need to weight the aught nots,
Against all of the aughts.
And so he thought;
and thought and thought.
And thought and thought and thought.
And just when Bunny looked fit to burst,
He said, real slow, "Why Not?"
All were there when Race - Day dawned,
All creatures great and small.
All those who'd been hatched
and all those who'd been born.
And, mock me not, for this is truth,
all who had been spawned.
All were there on that fateful day,
of the 'Race o'er the Endless Lawn'.
It was Owl, of course,
who adjudged the race
There could be no other notion.
Upon that day,
Where the "fastest ever",
Ran against old
"In - Slow - Motion".
"And above all else, race fair",
cried Owl.
I won't have with a commotion.
"Now runners take your marks",
he said.
And hooted like a locomotive.
And Rabbit took off,
So incredibly fast,
You'd think he'd committed a crime.
But Sheldon, though brave,
and bold certainly, too,
had only just crossed the race starting line.
"Well, look at that -
All the animals said.
- There's no other outcome,
but that rabbit will win".
"And, since we all know,
how at the end it all ends.
Let's all have a picnic,
Then go watch tortoise coming in.
Now, it's well known most animals,
in addition to walking,
can just as easily run.
Done most often when fleeing or chasing,
And occasionally, just for fun.
But had you that day, by chance, let's just say,
happened to see Sheldon go.
You would be excused, for being confused,
At how his fast was the same as his slow.
end part 1
September Challenge - Tritina 9-24-26
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Electric Aurora
Neon ribbons flame across an onyx midnight
When electric flares and fires flash in jewel tones
Pale crystal snows reflect Aurora’s gossamer gown.
Swirling arcs decorate the hemline of her gown
As solar sequins flash across the midnight
And currents of her ruby fire play in arctic tones.
Arctic sprite pulses in bursting topaz solar tones
Queen of astral mischief wears an emerald gown
Sneaking out to play in the sapphire midnight.
In gowns of emerald, playful minx winks at midnight in turquoise tones.
Confidence has wings.
Confidence flings itself
between you and the bullet
time and again.
Confidence sings into
the unknown, flies ahead,
often lost from view.
Confidence are the names
of cities in California, Illinois, Iowa and Wisconsin,
because it was what they cherished,
had most of.
Confidence has strings-- golden fastenings
that bind us
to our course.
Confidence sings into discord,
unruffles feathers
that would have flown long ago.
Confidence is spring,
the sowing of seeds,
of summer’s abundance,
and into the fall, letting go,
purified by winter,
white and glistening,
fresh with mischief.
Confidence is the flower on a grave,
of a time to claim as our own,
our finest moments yet unknown
as a new journey begins.
Your
Mischief
Surpassed mine
Made me crazy
So hard and sublime
Do you think I am slow?
Made me angry, made me pout
When you whipped your big mischief out
Too bad you are my younger cousin
I cannot replace you by the dozen
You dear, are the mischief making queen
I have spit, stomped, stamped, yelled and screamed
No one tops your insane ways
I will try every day
I will sneak around
Until I top
Your mischief-
Ous ways
Yes!
This is formed like a Ninette, however, it is like an expanded ninette because instead of a ninette’s traditional 9 lines, I have turned this into nineteen lines. A traditional ninette starts with a small word,
Adding one syllable to each line until the fifth line, then it changes and decreases each line by one syllable.
Written 9/8/2018 Nina Parmenter’s Contest
A Form of Mischief
Beneath the emerald hills they hide,
Where shadows stretch and secrets bide,
The leprechauns with hats so green,
Dance where only dreams are seen.
They laugh and twirl in moonlit glow,
Their golden coins they softly throw.
A wink, a jig, a merry sound,
A hidden treasure underground.
With mischief in their sparkling eyes,
They hide their wealth where magic lies.
A rainbow leads, but none can trace,
The leprechauns’ elusive grace.
They’ll grant you wishes, if you’re true,
But catch them first—that’s up to you!
For they’re as quick as the morning breeze,
Vanishing with a soft “please, please!”
So search the hills and wildflower glens,
But know that the dance never ends.
The leprechauns are ever near,
Whispering laughter we can’t quite hear.
raven of the marsh sounded the alarm
mystic named Marilee listened carefully
first the bull frogs, then the spiders, now this
three signs in three days; mischief was afoot
spirit was in the air, Marilee strived to identify it
A chill pierced her soul; she felt threatened
this was not a spirit guide she knew or a loving ancestor
Clairsentient, she sensed lilac and an ironed linen
an old-fashioned entity, possibly female, but maybe not
you do not know me, the spirit told her
this message entered Marilee’s mind
her neck hairs stood up on edge
the air was heavy; she took a step
the entity followed her
what do you want? She asked
not with words, but in her mind
the lack of answer shook her a bit
the sky was filled with grayscale fuzziness
the woods felt ominous tonight
Marilee walked toward her garden
she had a strong feeling turkey buzzards would be here by morning
an unsettling premonition
Alone in my office
after a full day of teaching
I sit
catching my breath
looking at the picture
next to the phone
a baby girl
poses for the camera
big grown eyes
chubby cheeks
impish grin
a discarded toy behind her
smiling for daddy
so full of mischief and joy
Where did she go?
I look at pictures behind me
The young woman
Slim
Beautiful
Self- confident
voluptuous
sexy
luxuriant hair
sparkling smile
the poser
gregarious, vivacious, full of life
Where did she go?
I look into the ornate mirror
a woman in her forties
black hair starting to show white
pinned up high
a crown of curls
her one vanity
but it brings
no hint of a smile
tears gather
in those big brown eyes
a sigh
here she is
here she is….
that little girl
turned young and pretty
then middle aged
sage
no longer in her prime
she sits and wonders
about the passage of time
Questions surface...
Why have her dreams died?
Why must she be denied?
When was the last time
She truly felt alive?
Yes
Here she is
And soon she’ll go…
her heart fills with sorrow
there is still so much of her
that remains
unknown...
Eileen
She's sleek, elegance style her strive every
creation her beauty turn heads
Don't matter, big or small; love knows no
boundaries of sophisticated curves
She's hardcore independent dying be pamper
Cosmetic work of art in fine tune
Skin dripping heat of passion to love
Touch her nails gash sensation urge
To touch her soul, feel for want desires
cries freedom while looking for peace
Heart, pounding thirst she thrives quenching
She's lost, always searching her existence
Beauty of grace, extravaganza to existing
Why her soul weep lonely behind the grin
missing arms of tender love
The woman, creation to life and man but
to herself the image in the mirror
Down deep, fury awaits scorn mischief hidden
Beware, bite can be vicious or love like friend